


Pieces

by dai



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 02:56:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dai/pseuds/dai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Totsuka's death, Mikoto must make a decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces

Mikoto stands behind the bar, leaning against it, and Kusanagi is in front of him, on his knees. A shockingly private moment, most of the usual Homra visitors out on patrol or gone; it's late anyway, too early to recieve customers. 

The pressure of the blond's mouth is careful and slow, working Mikoto hard and into a different sort of daze. He's groggy from sleep, wired from the nightmare burning into his subconscious. He doesn't remember the exchange, only that Kusanagi had pushed him into the wood of the countertop, pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and had worked the button and fly of his pants open with more finesse than seemed right. Mikoto might have been impressed. 

But he simply leans back and stares at the ceiling, sighing instead. 

Kusanagi is skilled, there's no doubt. The tip of his tongue grazes the head, explores the length of his cock before pressing down to draw most of him in. It's hotter than he remembers, more controlled than the power slowly eating him to oblivion. Peace, and a comfort he thinks he doesn't deserve. 

It reminds him of Totsuka, and he squeezes his eyes shut. 

Mikoto rocks his hips, urging Kusanagi faster. _More more more_. He needs to forget, wants to remember what it's like to feel. He fists a hand in that soft hair when he comes, hunched forward and frowning at the way his body trembles. There's no sound but for the quiet swallow and low pop as Kusanagi breaks the suction. He gently rights everything as it was before and leans against him, forehead pressed to his hip in silence as if to say, "I can't do more than this. I'm sorry."

He doesn't want comfort though. Mikoto wants revenge. 

When he finally releases Kusanagi, he lazily glances at the rows of liquor neatly arranged in front of him and fights the urge to break every single one of them. 

"It's our move," he murmurs, dragging his fingers into the wild mess of his hair to pacify the impulse. Kusanagi simply huffs out a laugh but remains still. Mikoto doesn't want to see the sad smile on his face, doesn't want to acknowledge the warmth slowly beginning to seep into the cotton of his shirt. 

He closes his eyes again and lets it burn away to nothing.


End file.
